


Sweetheart Deal

by neevebrody



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Angst and Humor, First Time, M/M, Young Rodney
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-11-15
Updated: 2008-11-15
Packaged: 2017-10-03 14:44:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neevebrody/pseuds/neevebrody
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For just a moment, John let himself remember how it felt to be young and cocky, full of himself and wanting something out of his reach.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweetheart Deal

**Author's Note:**

> This is younger Rodney and John at his age in Atlantis. The story takes place in Atlantis after the beginning of S4 so I'd say some vague spoilers for the first part of S4

The lovely Bellewhan made art for me! It's the very essence of the young!Rodney I had in mind when writing the story and John is just perfectly... perfect.

[](http://bellewhan.livejournal.com/20683.html)

(clicking on the pic will take you to the artist's Livejournal where you may leave her feedback, and please do, 'cause this is just an awesome job)

Sweetheart Deal

The controls were like a pliant lover in his hands as John leaned with the turn and banked the jumper in a desperate effort to draw the fire away from the event horizon. Was it too much to ask these days for a mission to go off without a hitch?

Eyes glued to the gate ahead, his voice crackled in the air. "Atlantis, this is Sheppard. We're coming in hot, clear the gateroom and stand by to raise the shield as soon as we're through, I repeat, stand by to raise the shield."

The wormhole held his breath. He exhaled as they hovered safely inside the gateroom, the event horizon dissolving into nothing seconds later. John's shoulders slumped into the seat back as he taxied the jumper to the bay.

Like an unwelcome tune, the familiar pounding returned to John's temples as he and his team descended the steps from the jumper bay.

"Well, Colonel, that certainly didn't take long." Colonel Samantha Carter stood outside her office door.

"Wraith," John spat, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Kinda put a damper on things."

Carter nodded.

He waved Teyla, Ronon and Dr. Robson on ahead and stepped over to join Carter. "Can I have a word, Colonel?" he asked, following her inside.

She looked at him expectantly. "Is everyone okay, John?"

"Yeah," he said absently. "We managed to make it back to the jumper and almost back to the gate before detection." Scrubbing the back of his neck, he paced in front of Carter. "I need a new scientist, someone I can depend on," he blurted out, deciding to forego the pleasantries.

"I thought Dr. Robson was working out fine," she offered.

John shook his head. "She's too slow, and besides, she doesn't seem too sure of herself. If we're going to continue to check out alternative energy sources... couldn't we spare Zelenka for just--"

The look on Carter's face was one John had yet to become comfortable with. It meant no. And not no like Elizabeth's no, not _no until you can talk me into it_, but _no and it won't do you any good to try to talk me into it_.

"I'm afraid not, Colonel. Not until we can get all systems back online in the outlying parts of the city and completely assess the damage from the landing." She continued through John's pout, "However, I may have a suitable solution."

"Which is?"

"I've extended an invitation for a new scientist to join the expedition." She walked around the desk and took her seat. She motioned for John to sit, but he just shifted his weight and rested his palms on the butt of his P-90. "Actually, he was one of Dr. Weir's top candidates when choosing members for the original expedition, but the work he was doing at the time couldn't wait. He's an expert in ZPM technology."

"I thought Radek was the authority."

"Dr. McKay has spent years in this field of study for the SGC, the last few working on possible integration with Asgard technology in an effort to make ZPM power more efficient."

John nodded. "You say you extended an invitation, the guy hasn't made up his mind?"

"The last report I received from the SGC seemed to indicate his acceptance, but knowing McKay, he wouldn't want to leave any loose ends."

"Sounds like our guy." His head continued to pound as he turned for the door. "Keep me posted."

Sam called him back. "John, I need to mention one more thing." Her face was a little pinched, like she knew she'd saved the worst for last. "I've worked with McKay. He can be a bit acerbic, a little hard to take at first, but believe me, once you've been around him for a while... he's only slightly more tolerable."

"Troublemaker?"

"Genius. I hate to admit it, but he's one of the best minds at the SGC and we're damn lucky he's even considering us." She leaned forward, balancing on her fingertips. "I guess what I'm trying to say is that he's... well, he has a bit of an attitude."

John snorted. "Didn't we all? He'll get over that soon enough."

Sam didn't look convinced, but her smile was a bit more believable. "Good. As long as you're aware of it, I don't think we'll have a problem."

~~~~

John optimistically disregarded the warning buzzer and flashing red light on the HUD. If he could just hold this bird together for a few more minutes...

"Atlantis, this is Sheppard. Slight problem. Have Zelenka meet us in the jumper bay, ETA three minutes. Sheppard out."

What he couldn't ignore were McCallum's and Ronon's raised voices from the rear compartment. He turned just in time to catch a waterfall of sparks out of the corner of his eye. God help him, Dr. McCallum was better than Robson in the field, but apparently no help with the jumper.

It had been two weeks since his talk with Colonel Carter and their trip to M7X-339 was the latest in a shitload of problem missions. Where was the guy Carter promised? Genius or no genius, dammit, he really needed a team scientist, like yesterday!

~~~~

Trailing the rest of the team from the jumper bay, he was hot, tired and dejected at yet another difficult mission. Praying the debriefing would be short and sweet, John wanted nothing more than to hide away in his quarters until dinner. His mind was full of hot showers and cool sheets as he stopped by Carter's office to let her know they were back. Only she wasn't alone.

When the man turned around, it wasn't the smirk John noticed first, it was his eyes. They were vivid blue, but everything else about him, from the way his arms crossed his chest to the sideways slant of his mouth, screamed indifference. In fact, his entire body seemed to be one giant smirk.

Usually that would annoy the hell out of John, but he passed on that in favor of a quick survey of the stranger. He was young, maybe mid twenties. On the one hand, he looked like he hadn't lifted anything heavier than a pencil for years, but a second look drew his attention to the curve of the man's bicep and the way the denim hugged his thighs. His civilian clothes - and that had to be the tackiest plaid shirt in the history of plaid shirts - made it hard to tell to which department he might actually belong.

With no regard and without a word, the man turned his back on John and even though he tried not to, John stole a glance at his ass, then looked over to Carter. "Sorry, we'll debrief in five," he said quickly, ducking out before she had a chance to say anything.

John flopped down in his chair like a petulant kid. He reached for the water pitcher and tried desperately to keep the argument between Ronon and Dr. McCallum from worming its way into his brain. One thing was certain, the proper sequence for flaying the moose-like animal found on M7X-339, was not an image he wanted to carry around for the rest of the day, or ever for that matter.

He'd just raised the glass to his lips when Colonel Carter entered the conference room, the young man with the nice ass in tow. John just managed not to choke when she introduced Doctor Rodney McKay.

John set the glass on the table and tried to appear nonchalant as he leaned back in his chair. Truth was, from the start, something about McKay made him... what... Uneasy? Nervous? Uncomfortable? He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but before he could think too much about it, McKay's hand loomed in front of him.

John stood and extended his own. McKay's grip was firm and this time John spent a little more time looking into those eyes. They didn't waver and it was John, himself, who looked away first, then proceeded to stumble over the introductions of his team.

Sam explained she wanted to quickly introduce him before he met with Zelenka. McKay then excused himself and during the remainder of the briefing, John tried to forget just how blue those eyes were.

~~~~

Breakfast before a mission was normally a quiet time for John. It was the time he missed a newspaper the most. He was making do with Major Lorne's mission reports from the previous week when the clatter of another tray and a strange voice startled him. Looking up, the fresh, clean-shaven face of young Doctor McKay greeted him, along with a much too chipper, "Good morning, Colonel."

"McKay." His deadpan would never, ever be confused with chipper, but he did try to make it friendly. This was the guy who was going to help him out after all.

"Sam, uhm, Colonel Carter tells me I'm coming along on one of your missions this morning."

John eyed him. "That's right. You don't have to, but I'd appreciate it."

"No problem." He glanced at Sheppard before taking a big gulp of coffee. "An audition of sorts. Carter says you're looking for a scientist for your team."

"You could call it that. The trip today is strictly humanitarian and you'll be coming along as a member of the science department." John watched him dig into the small mountain of food on his tray, thinking the mess inventory was going to take a serious hit with both Ronon and McKay on the base. "That okay with you?"

"Sure," McKay replied around a mouthful of scrambled eggs.

John winced. It was like a train wreck; he wanted to look away, but... "Carter says you're somewhat of an expert on ZPMs."

McKay didn't seem to be paying attention; he was more engrossed in the datapad he'd brought with him. "Hmm, yes."

John checked his watch. Not really wild about watching McKay eat, he began to gather his things. "You can meet us in the ready room at 0900. We'll get you geared up."

McKay snorted. "Geared up?"

"We have standard equipment for all off-world missions," John said patiently.

Still scrolling through whatever he was reading, McKay waved John off and mumbled, "Right.. ready room, 0900, I'll be there."

As John deposited his tray and dishes at the cleanup station, there was a loud and distinct "Cool!" from across the room. He huffed a little laugh and thought of that first day the city had come alive beneath his feet, how it had made him feel. He shook his head slightly. Cool, indeed.

~~~~

Their trip to P7H-449 couldn't have gone better. No problems, no setbacks, no mishaps. John would have been ecstatic if not for the urge to smack McKay's hand away from the jumper's console. Jesus, this was a grown man, but his first trip in a puddlejumper had him equally captivated and restless, and John totally ignored the snorts of derision at the name "puddlejumper". The only time McKay was quiet was when he was poking around on his datapad.

"So, Colonel, how'd I do my first day?" McKay asked out of nowhere.

"Fine, just fine," John replied, though he was actually amazed that Ronon had resisted stunning him thus far.

"Kind of hard to tell, I suppose. Not much heavy lifting," Rodney said, calling up the HUD, again, rubbing John's last nerve dangerously raw.

"I didn't think hard work was your thing," John gritted.

McKay turned to him. "Well, I just mean you could have taken someone without even one Ph.D. along to do what I did today."

John mused over that. "A waste of your time, then."

McKay's eyes shone with a certain haughtiness. "Yes."

John turned and stared straight ahead, his jaw working. "The reason I wanted you along was in case something came up we couldn't handle. Just yesterday, we had to limp back to Atlantis because we couldn't troubleshoot a problem with the jumper. I'm sorry you feel--"

"Okay, okay. I get it. I just thought I'd be doing something more…"

John cut his eyes sideways. "Glamorous?"

"Important, actually." He sniffed and fiddled with the datapad.

"Listen, McKay, being responsible for the safety of this team is the most important job we have." He nodded back to where Teyla and Ronon were sitting. "Something you'd do well to remember." Rodney said nothing and John turned back to see the space gate ahead of them. "Stand by to dial."

~~~~

The winds picked up as the team and a detail of Marines stood in the center of a small, green clearing. They were back on M2R-775 to continue the exploration they'd begun weeks before and John barked orders for everyone to keep in tight formation.

"And we're here, why?" Rodney asked, walking past Sheppard.

McKay had shown up late for the mission and John was quickly losing patience with the doctor's boredom-laden air of superiority. "We're here because Dr. Robson picked up some strange readings on our last trip, but we kinda got interrupted, so now we're gonna check them out."

"Interrupted?"

"A culling," John stated matter-of-factly.

"Hmm, yes. The Wraith," McKay said absently. He shifted his attention to his handheld scanner and began to wander away from the others.

John sighed and headed in his direction. "It'd be nice if we all stayed together, McKay."

Rodney looked back casually. "Yes, yes, of course. Especially since you've brought me to a Wraith-infested planet without providing me a means of defending myself."

John caught up to him. "And until you get some weapons training, it's going to stay that way. You're not a regular member of the team, yet, McKay. It's our job to protect you," he said, jerking his head in the direction of the others, "and we can't do that if you're gonna disregard orders."

Rodney stared at him. "Suppose for some reason I was separated from the team, what then?"

"Exactly my point," John said with a sarcastic smile. He turned, hoping McKay would get the message and follow him. "And I didn't plan on this being a picnic, either... you any closer to locating that signal?"

"Yes, yes. I've got it, but I wouldn't get too excited. I don't believe it's the Holy Grail. Granted, I can see why Dr. Robson would have been interested, but it's no ZedPM."

John turned around. "And how do you know that?"

"Well I don't know... exactly. Call it a hunch, but I don't believe the signal here is the right frequency." He held up the scanner for John to see. "Probably just some low-level radiation--naturally occurring from a rock or mineral bed."

John eyed him carefully and looked around to make sure Teyla, Ronon and the other Marines were still on the perimeter. "Are you sure?"

McKay pulled a face. "Uh, yeah, pretty sure. I mean, my expertise is why you brought me along, after all, but if you want to waste your time checking this out, I'm not going to argue with you."

John took a few steps closer. "That'd be a real good idea, McKay."

He pointed over John's shoulder in the direction of the reading. "Lead the way... Colonel."

John's chest tightened a little. "Teyla," he called, "watch him! Ronon, you take our six." With one last glare at McKay, he turned and stalked past the others, leading them into the interior of a tall canopy of trees.

It didn't take long to track the signal to its source - a small stream running atop an indigenous rock formation.

On the trip back to Atlantis, the jumper was eerily quiet. Even McKay seemed to pick up the vibe that Sheppard was unhappy with another failed search. John glanced behind him. McKay busied himself with his computer tablet.

Seconds later, there was a muffled _clunk_, a wicked vibration and then John had his hands full of the jumper controls, the jumper itself pitching badly. Adrenaline sped through his veins. "McKay?"

"Just... uhm, you've lost the inertial dampeners."

"I got that. Why? What's going on?" John wrestled the controls, finally able to level the jumper's flight path.

"I don't--just give me a minute."

"Colonel," Teyla interrupted, pointing to the HUD. "There is a hive ship--"

John cut his eyes at the screen. "We don't have a minute, McKay."

Ronon leaned forward. "They're heading back to the planet."

"Yeah," John replied, glancing at Teyla. "Maybe we can run a little interference?"

"Are you crazy?" McKay's voice rapidly approached a pitch only audible to dogs. "You can't even control--"

"I can fly her, you just get the damn dampeners back online," John ordered.

"Colonel, you cannot be thinking--"

"Teyla's right. How about you commit suicide on your own time," McKay called, then his voice sank as if dropped down a well, "Oh my God... we're losing other systems."

"We're coming in too fast," Ronon cried as they approached the space gate.

John checked the HUD. Ronon was right. "You hear that McKay?"

No answer.

John swallowed hard, pushing his heart back where it belonged. They needed to get out of there before they were detected.

Then the lights went out. The HUD disappeared. Dammit.

"It's okay," McKay yelled and John could tell he was no longer behind him. "The auxiliary power should kick in about... now." And it did, as a faint greenish glow lit the jumper.

As they neared the space gate, nothing had changed. "Still too fast, McKay... we're almost--"

"Yes, yes I know that. Working on it... can't you make a loop or something, Jesus, I just need..."

Cold sweat hung about John's neck. "What the hell are you doing back there anyway?"

McKay's voice turned to grating metal. "You just fly the jumper, Colonel. Don't worry about me."

"Teyla, what's going on?" John asked as he manhandled the jumper around for another approach.

"He appears to be working on the main crystal array. I believe he has it connected to his datapad."

John hoped to hell he knew more than McCallum. "Any sparks?" he asked ruefully.

Teyla didn't answer. She became still, her eyes staring. "John, the hive--"

Ronon's hand stabbed the air between them. "Darts!"

"McKay?" John called, turning the jumper back in the direction of the gate. "This ain't no joyride anymore, when--"

There was another thump and the jumper's pattern was smooth again. The HUD sprang back to life indicating all systems back online.

"Son of a..." McKay called from the rear. "Go, go, go."

~~~~

At the debriefing, McKay gave his account of the mission and the likely problem with the jumper. John didn't understand all of the jargon, but he got a good look at the crystal McKay fished from his pocket, the center split with a streak like black lightning. McKay excused himself, saying he wanted to run some diagnostics on the crystal, then glancing at Sheppard, he added, "And since I'm not a regular member of the team, you have all you need from me, I think."

Sam nodded, looking sharply from McKay to Sheppard. When the briefing ended, she asked John to remain behind.

"Well, that was awkward. How's it really going with you two?"

John didn't look her in the eye but mumbled something about fine and know-it-all and attitude. Finally looking up, he said, "But he knows his stuff. I don't want to think where we'd be if he hadn't been on board."

Sam nodded. "So, it's not his ability you have a problem with?"

"No," he replied, making it a three-syllable word.

"John, I did tell you about his attitude. Maybe you should give him a little more time. Rodney's not used to working with others."

"No kidding," he snorted.

"He's always worked alone or had underlings he could crush with a single glare." She smiled. "Perhaps if you included him in some of the team's activities, or... if you're not satisfied with Dr. McCallum, why not ask McKay to join your team?"

Oh yeah, that's just what he needed, a smart-ass bastard to deal with on life and death missions. "The guy's a walking ego trip," John said, as if that was explanation enough. McKay was also kind of hot, but, of course, Carter didn't need to know he thought so.

She pushed off from the conference table and walked over to Sheppard. "John, if you had a background like McKay's, if you knew you were smarter that most everyone else, you might be too. That's what I'm trying to make you understand. Rodney hasn't led a normal life. Maybe a little normalcy is just what he needs."

John raised his eyebrows.

"Look, Rodney and I have our differences of opinion and I think he's an annoying son of a bitch at times, but if we're to locate additional sources of power in this galaxy, and harness them, McKay's the best shot we have. I'm just trying to think of some way to help make him more... palatable."

~~~~

The following weeks brought a few more missions, though John still hadn't asked McKay to officially join the team. They were batting 0 for John-had-lost-count in their search for alternative power sources, but he was starting to get a little hopeful at McKay's constant assurances of what he could do once they did find a ZPM.

Ronon was a bit ambivalent when it came to McKay. He'd been unsuccessful at all attempts to get him into the gym, and didn't give the impression of having an opinion one way or the other, except that McKay was "smart" and as long as he stayed out of his way, Ronon was happy.

Teyla had tried to teach McKay the importance of winding down, but he apparently hadn't nailed down the mechanics of meditation, said it worked wonders for helping him think of new ideas. Teyla had reported he'd just laughed at her insistence that he was supposed to _clear_ his mind.

As for John, he'd taken Carter's advice to heart and included McKay in some of the team's activities. They often all ate together and movie nights were... interesting, to say the least. Watching McKay first eviscerate and then be awestruck by 2001 was exhausting, and his theater etiquette was terrible, speaking out loud during a film as though everyone else was just as interested in his analysis. Something he and John were perpetually at odds about, no matter what movie was playing.

But, McKay had brought along _THX-1138_ and a copy of the Director's cut of _Blade Runner_, so John was a little forgiving, except when it came to the popcorn bowl. Whenever John looked for it, it always seemed to be in McKay's lap and John found it increasingly uncomfortable to reach between McKay's legs whenever he'd grin and nod at the bowl.

Somehow, though John's irritation didn't keep him from sitting and listening to McKay talk about his Asgard integration theories, or anything else for that matter, until long after both Ronon and Teyla had gone all bug-eyed and retreated to their quarters for the night.

After a night like that, John lay in bed and tried to convince himself he wasn't attracted to Rodney McKay. His reasoning laid out nicely in an ethereal bubble that hovered above the interlaced fingers across his chest: McKay was too young, McKay was annoyingly arrogant, McKay was probably as straight as the proverbial arrow, and McKay didn't seem to like him much anyway.

But then something McKay had said, or a stray thought - the twist of McKay's mouth as he explained some esoteric theory, the way his hands never stopped moving - would wander in and burst that imaginary bubble, leaving John with thoughts of McKay's hands on him, McKay's mouth wrapped around his cock, capable and eager and that was McKay all over... eager to please.

Some nights John would simply counter those thoughts with a cold shower, but on others... well, on others, he'd just kick the covers back, dig his heels into the mattress and enjoy the ride.

~~~~

The sun blazed, searing the small crescent of flesh between John's shirt collar and his hairline. He could almost smell it cooking as he knelt and carefully removed the shoe and sweaty sock from McKay's left foot.

Bahalora was a devout village with long-standing trade relations with both the Athosians and Atlantis. Their chief product, the j'ana bean, was the closest thing to a true jolt of caffeine they'd found. It was the only crop that grew well in the arid, desolate atmosphere.

"Well, I can see you haven't been spending any time with Ronon in the gym," John said, carefully turning the foot.

"Ow, sonofa--" Rodney held his tongue but couldn't hide his balled fists nor his set jaw. "How the hell was I supposed to know I'd be expected to fight?"

"That's why you should have listened to Ronon in the first place."

"Yeah, yeah."

"Ronon knows these cultures, so does Teyla." He eyed McKay. "Although, I'd expect someone as smart as you to know better than to argue the existence of the Bahaloran's chosen god... and with the high priest no less."

"That entire display was utterly--imagine, having to participate in some archaic--in exchange for the _opportunity_ to view an item of Ancient--"

"Save it, McKay, I don't believe in any of that mumbo-jumbo either, but you're in another galaxy here, pal."

Rodney gripped a handful of brittle grass as John rolled his foot in the other direction. "So how come they just let us go?" he asked through gritted teeth. "I thought sure they were planning to roast my ass for dinner."

"That was Teyla's doing. She's well known in Pegasus, kind of a of a good will ambassador." He looked up. "Can you move your toes, move your foot back and forth?"

McKay winced as his toes jerked slightly.

"And if it's all the same to you, I'd rather not have her make a career out of cleaning up after you." John carefully laid McKay's foot on the ground and rummaged through the pack Teyla had left with them, fishing an elastic bandage from the med kit inside.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa... what are you doing?"

John glared.

"Oh my God, that's painful," McKay moaned as John rested the foot between his bent knees. "What's taking them so long? I can tell you, Colonel, I am not overly fond of dying on some godforsaken--"

"Quit your whining, McKay." John began to wrap the bandage. "You're not dying--sprained ankle at best."

A gust of vapid wind set the tall, dry grasses whispering around them. McKay leaned back, chin in the air, seemingly satisfied that John couldn't do too much damage.

"In the future if Teyla or Ronon tells you something's a bad idea, I suggest you heed that advice... for everyone's sake."

"Yes, yes. I understand. Team work... I get it."

"You don't like that much, do you?" John asked as he continued to wrap the flesh-colored cloth around the swollen ankle.

McKay winced again. "I prefer working alone, yes."

John stared at him a moment. "Well, you know what they say, McKay?"

"Hmm, no, Colonel. What do _they_ say?"

John stopped wrapping and looked him in the eye. "There's no 'I' in Team," he said, breaking into a ridiculous grin.

Rodney groaned and rolled his eyes. "Oh, how inspiring. I bet you learned that from your high school football coach."

"As a matter of fact, I did." He finished the bandage off just above the ankle. "Listen, the best advice I can give you for missions like this one is just smile, be nice to the villagers and keep your mouth shut... if that's possible."

Rodney scowled.

"Unless of course, they're chasing after you with crossbows," John said, securing his handiwork.

"They have those--ow, hey watch it."

John let go of McKay's foot. He had a snappy retort on the tip of his tongue, but genuine misery seemed to cloud those blue eyes. "Hmm, you think you got it bad," he said instead. "I once had a giant bug attach itself to my neck."

"A giant bug?"

John nodded. "Think Alien meets the Fly."

Rodney made a face. "Seriously?"

John busied himself stuffing things back into the pack. "Yep. Oh, and we were in the jumper, stuck halfway through a space gate at the time."

Rodney's eyes went wide. "Jesus, what happened, I mean how'd you get rid of the bug--how'd you--"

John nudged one shoulder lazily into the hot air. "My crew killed me," he deadpaned.

McKay stared at him.

"And when they couldn't revive me, they dragged me into the event horizon to wait it out," John said, standing up.

"Jesus," Rodney said again. "Well how, how were you... because, obviously..." Rodney waved his hand back and forth between them.

"Zelenka. We'd taken a hit and the damn drive pods wouldn't retract. Radek and his team finally figured out the correct sequence for manual retraction and the rest is history."

"Yes, but with no forward momentum..."

John dusted off his hands and set them squarely on his hips. "Had to blow the rear hatch to send us forward, and not a second to spare."

"Huh," Rodney smirked. "I gather I'm supposed to be impressed." They both looked up when they heard the jumper overhead.

John scooped up their gear and slung the pack over his shoulder. "Nope," he said wryly, helping McKay to his feet. "But it did stop your bellyaching for five minutes." John turned to him. "How's that ankle, still hurt?"

Rodney eyed him a moment, then the barest curve of a grin lifted the corner of his mouth. "Yes, like a sonofabitch."

John grinned back. "You'll be fine. We'll get you back and have Keller take a look."

The hatch of the jumper lowered and Ronon loped toward them, followed by Major Lorne. Ronon took up a position on McKay's other side and John handed off some of the gear to Lorne.

"So, did that really happen or did you just make it up for my benefit?" Rodney asked as they headed for the jumper.

John wrapped his arm tighter around McKay's waist, taking the brunt of his weight. "Mission reports are in the archive, go read for yourself."

McKay smiled again. "Yeah, don't think I won't."

~~~~

That night, John lay in bed thinking of McKay's performance over the past few weeks, wondering what it was that was keeping him from asking McKay to be part of the team. He was obviously brilliant. He was just what John had asked for, a scientist he could depend on, his attitude aside. Although, McKay's biting wit and caustic manner was more of a turn on than an irritant these days.

Not to mention those damn blue eyes that always made McKay look like a kid on the verge of pulling a prank, and the many grimaces, grins and angles he could twist that mouth of his into? And what was it with the uniform jacket? It was like McKay hated to wear it, always removing it whenever he was around John, showing off his arms. But the real problem was McKay's ass. It was getting harder and harder to avert his eyes every time McKay bent down to investigate some odd energy source on missions, or when he stood on ladders to check out Ancient devices, or just coming into a room finding him bent over some console.

If John didn't know better, he'd think McKay was doing that on purpose.

He sighed heavily into darkness kissed by the soft lights from the city. Inviting McKay to join the team was trouble. It was trouble and it was temptation. And that was it right there. All it took some days was a look from McKay to get him hard, and Jesus, what did that make him?

John slipped his hand beneath the sheet to press the heel against his stirring cock, and then he was gone. The spark of skin on skin, fueled by thoughts of McKay, kindled a fire John couldn't stop until and it ended in a full blown, mind-numbing orgasm, the only kind he'd had since first setting eyes on the stranger in that god-awful plaid shirt.

~~~~

It had taken John all day to admit to himself what he already knew, what he'd known for weeks. McKay had more than proven himself and deserved to be part of the team, officially, and the only thing standing in the way was John's own attraction.

He knew what he had to do. It wouldn't be the first time in his career he'd have to work with someone who was strictly 'look but don't touch'. The team was the important thing.

McKay hadn't been in the mess for lunch, which was no big deal, but when he didn't show again for dinner, John became a little concerned. It wasn't like McKay to miss a meal. He grabbed a couple of sandwiches, a fruit cup and chocolate pudding and headed off toward the labs.

Following Zelenka's directions, John found Rodney in one of the research labs, parked in front of a bank of computers, white board at his side crammed with equations and formulas. Rodney glanced his way as John walked in, but immediately turned his attention back to the screens in front of him.

John sidled over to the table where McKay was working. "Didn't see you in the mess for dinner." Sandwich wrappers, empty applesauce and pudding cups littered the table. He held up the fruit cup. "I guess you won't be needing this," John said, setting food down in the one clean space he could find.

McKay looked up. "Are you kidding, I'm starving. Dinner? What time is it?" Checking his watch, he groaned. "Shit."

John looked around the room. There was no sign anyone else had been there. "How long have you been cooped up here anyway?"

Rodney rubbed his eyes and straightened his back, which brought on a huge yawn. "Hmm, all afternoon." He groaned again as he rolled his neck. "At least I have a high tolerance to turkey sandwiches," he said, smiling and unwrapping one of the ones John brought.

He stood by and watched McKay down half of it in an alarmingly short amount of time.

"So, no missions for you today?" McKay asked, trying to open the fruit with one hand while groping around on the table for one of the several plastic spoons lying there.

John shook his head. "Actually, I was kind of putting them off until..." He pointed, indicating McKay's ankle. "How's it feeling?"

"Much better. Keller says I can start putting more--wait a minute, is this your way of asking me to join the team, Sheppard? Have I finally passed muster? Hey, does that mean I'll get a gun, and the gene therapy? I could fly the jumper and--"

"First, McKay, all you'll get is some weapons training. Actually, I mostly just want you for your brain."

Rodney's face fell briefly, but then it lit up again, that playful smugness coming through. "Oh, well, of course you do."

"Uh huh." It was feeding an already overblown ego, but just this once, John figured he could afford it, if it flattered Rodney into joining the team. "I mean, anybody who can get up to speed on Ancient tech the way you have--"

"So, no flying the jumper right away. Pity, especially if I'm successful with my latest project," Rodney said pointing to one of the screens.

John could make out a few of the words, and the... "That's a diagram of a jumper."

"Indeed it is." McKay stood up, bouncing a little on his one good foot. "I'm attempting a few modifications, weapons, propulsion. Wanna take a look?" He motioned for John to take his seat.

As John sat down, McKay hovered behind him, standing so close his body heat prickled the hairs on the back of John's neck and suddenly the whole room felt awfully warm.

"Just let me... start 'er up here," McKay was saying, leaning across John to press a few keys on the center laptop. As he did, Rodney's stiff jeans (the ones he insisted on wearing off hours) brushed against John's shoulder. "There, now just watch." He seemed much too pleased with himself and he was still standing too damn close, making it difficult for John to focus his entire attention on the screen.

The simulation appeared to be an attempt to increase the power of the jumper from a dead stop by modifying the main thrusters - something John had to admit was a good idea, since it was usually evasive maneuvers that saved his ass in a pinch.

Then Rodney leaned in again.

He was right at John's ear, arm outstretched, pointing to something on another screen. The movement stirred the air around them, filling it with a warm, spicy scent. Reluctantly, John took a deep breath.

Goddammit, what was McKay doing? He couldn't not know what he was doing... could he?

Rodney was still talking, edging his crotch into John's shoulder and when he moved as he spoke, John found it wasn't just McKay's jeans that were stiff. And, fuck, that shouldn't cause heart palpitations or the sweat beading across his brow, shouldn't make his chest rise and fall rapidly or make his own dick stand at attention either, but it did.

John cut off the technobabble in mid-stream. "What kind of game are you playing, McKay?"

"Who me? No game, the simulation's a legitimate--I'm sure I can--"

John turned to him. His eyes slipped to Rodney's crotch then back up. "You know what I mean."

Rodney grinned. "It's no game, Colonel." Despite the grin, there was no mirth in his voice. "About time you caught up. Christ, I've been flirting with you for weeks."

John cleared his throat. "Yeah," he replied, pretending to know that. He cleared his throat again, trying to swallow down the thick, dry coat. Was McKay saying...

"What? You're surprised I'm attracted to you? I thought--"

"No," John lied. The temperature of the room made his head spin and, shit, he really needed to get out of there, only that would require standing up, and then he'd be so busted.

"Huh, I think maybe you are."

John's breath caught as McKay's hip brushed his shoulder again; their combined heat crawled all over him. Tiny beads of sweat broke free and trickled away from his hairline. Fuck this.

John stood abruptly and shoved his hands into his pockets. He took a few steps away from McKay. What was wrong with him? Jesus, just get the guy on the team and get the hell of there - how hard was that? "So, you interested?" he asked.

"Oh yeah, Colonel, I'm interested."

"In the team," John stressed.

Rodney cocked his head. "Hands cold, Sheppard? I'd say it seems a bit warm in here."

John narrowed his eyes and ignored the question. "You'll need to know how to handle a weapon. Can you shoot?"

Rodney shook his head and stepped closer. "No, but I'm sure you could teach me." Another step. "I'm a real quick study."

John took a step back, making a vain attempt not to make it appear to be a retreat, shifting his weight and ducking his head, like it was something he meant to do all along. "All right. What about tomorrow? Meet me in the armory?"

"Doing some mock-ups on this jumper thing with Zelenka in the morning. That could take hours. To be safe, why don't we say after dinner?"

John glanced around, anything not to have to look into those eyes. Because if he did, he might lose that last little thread of willpower he was hanging onto, the only thing that stood between walking his ass out the door and bending McKay over one of those goddamn lab tables. "Fine, sure," John said, turning for the door. "After dinner."

He couldn't get back to his quarters fast enough.

~~~

McKay was already in the armory when John arrived. The scene that greeted him was a bit surreal, Rodney waxing eloquent on the physics of muzzle velocity to a young Marine whose eyes darted warily to the 9mm McKay was brandishing.

John stepped in and grabbed McKay's forearm, shifting the gun to a neutral position. "For chrissakes, McKay." He felt Rodney's grip relax and took the weapon from him.

"Oh for--there's no clip in it, I'm not an idiot." He glanced back and forth from John to the Marine.

The Marine didn't seem to be buying that story. He excused himself and beat a hasty retreat when told McKay was there for lessons. That left the two of them.

John took his protégé by the elbow and steered him over to the practice range. He handed the gun back to McKay and set up a paper target. Selecting a clip from the table in front of them, he showed McKay how to load the weapon and then moved around behind him to help him get set.

At once, he knew he'd made a big mistake. McKay was still dressed in his uniform that, without his jacket, consisted of a tight gray tee shirt and gray khakis. Unlike the jeans, the khakis hugged McKay in other places, showing off his best assets.

John shook himself and figured it was best just to get this done. "Let's see what you can do," he told McKay, nodding toward the target.

McKay drew the weapon up, aimed and took a shot. He missed the target completely.

"Okay." John stepped up closer. "That wasn't too bad."

"You're kidding, right? That sucked. I'll be useful if you have the random side of a barn that needs taking out."

John grinned. "You just need to work on your aim a bit." He lifted his arm and slid his hand over McKay's. "Sight down the barrel, see. Every weapon's gonna be a little different. The Berettas are pretty true, but you'll see soon enough how you need to adjust."

"Okay."

"Tell me when you've got the center of the target sighted." John moved with him but in order to keep his hand on McKay's, he had to lean in close around McKay's broad shoulders and caught that same spicy scent as before. To keep from tipping into him, John laid a stabilizing hand on his hip.

"Got it," McKay said. "Now what?"

His whole stance had gone stiff. "Well first, you need to relax," John said. "It's kinda like golf, you--"

"I don't play golf, Colonel."

 

"Then just loosen up a little," John said, nudging him. "Take a deep breath. You try to shoot frozen up like this and you'll never hit your mark." There was something more than a little satisfying in the way McKay seemed to relax into him then, and John fought to keep focused. "All right, let's try it again. This time feel my hand... squeeze the trigger, don't jerk it back." His finger moved with McKay's, slowly and evenly.

His second shot hit the mark just off to the right.

"Better. Once more."

The next shot found the target in almost the same spot.

"That's okay," John reassured him.

McKay turned his head slightly. "Don't I get points for consistency?"

John smiled; he was so close his lips could have grazed the young doctor's ear. "'Fraid not," he whispered, cutting his eyes sideways. "It's accuracy that counts." John took another deep breath. He could almost feel the scrub from the stubble that darkened McKay's face and neck. Sweat dampened the space between his palm and the back of McKay's hand and as John shifted his weight, he realized his dick was already half-hard.

McKay leaned back into him and said, "Let's have one more go then." He straightened his arm with a purpose and John felt him squeeze off five more shots.

Blinking through the noise and the smoke, John eyed the target. All five had found their way to the center. He let go and took a step back. "Son of a bitch! What the fuck, McKay?"

McKay looked over his shoulder and John felt the full weight of that wicked smile. "You didn't think I was going to pass up a private lesson, did you?" Those blue eyes sparkled in the hazy shadows of the room as the smell of cordite hung in the air.

John's heart drummed against his chest. "What do you want from me, McKay?"

Rodney turned to face him. "I might ask the same of you, Colonel."

"I don't want anything," he shot back.

"I stand corrected then, I don't have to ask. Don't think I haven't noticed the way you look at me--just because you can't admit it to yourself doesn't mean I don't know. You want what they all want." Rodney took a step closer. "Pretty-boy jocks looking for help with their trig homework, professors just itching to indulge their daddy fantasies. It's nothing new to me, Sheppard. C'mon... tell me."

John stared into his eyes and somehow, he knew McKay wasn't lying. Then McKay was right there. He was more than just in John's space, he was right there, everything John had fantasized about for weeks, debated over, cursed himself for wanting. Right. Fucking. There.

He felt his control slip and reached out to run a hand down McKay's chest, following it with his eyes. He hooked a finger inside the front of the khakis and tugged just a little.

He swallowed hard as McKay cocked his head and leaned closer. "You're not getting it unless you ask for it," Mckay said. The warm gust of his sweet, coffee-scented breath floated across John's cheek as the heat from it kissed his lips. At that moment, there didn't seem to be enough air in the room for both of them, so John stopped breathing, weighing his answer.

"McKay, I--"

"Rodney," he whispered in John's ear, "Tell me, I want to hear you say it."

John leaned in then checked himself. "I--I'd better get back," he stammered, pulling away.

McKay's face went blank. He took a step back, then gave John that irritating little smirk. "Well, I didn't expect that." He spun the Berretta and offered it, butt first, to John. "Didn't figure you for the backing down type, Colonel," he said, walking to the door.

John stood there, forgetting to breathe as the door swished shut. The blood pooling in his cock pulsed in time with the pounding between his ears. He raised the gun and emptied the clip, ripping the target to shreds.

~~~~

John allowed the hot water to knead the back of his neck a bit longer. The news from Carter hadn't been unexpected, but the end result of the negotiations hadn't exactly been what he'd wanted to hear. He cut the taps and stood a moment, rubbing the water from his face and contemplating the return to Allora.

He grabbed the towel hanging on the shower door and stepped out, massaging it fiercely over his head.

"Colonel?"

John spun toward the sound, reflexively reaching to his side and pulling the towel around his waist. "Jesus, McKay! Why don't you scare the shit out of somebody? John pulled the towel tighter, tucking it in, heart slamming hard against his chest. "Fuck! Ever heard of knocking?"

"I did," McKay said calmly, jerking a finger over his shoulder. "I guess the shower was still running."

McKay and Zelenka had been working in another part of the city for days. John hadn't seen him since their meeting in the armory and there he was, leaning in the doorway, so casual, like he belonged there. John didn't like that... much.

"So, is there something you want, McKay?" John's face flushed hot as he turned to the sink, but he couldn't escape McKay's reflection. It was there in the mirror, smiling, his eyes roaming over John's body before meeting his gaze.

"Geez, Sheppard, what a loaded question," he said, crossing his arms. "Actually, there is something. This mission tomorrow, I understand it could be dangerous."

John shrugged. "Carter and Teyla worked hard on a truce with the Allorans. Our mission tomorrow is to return prisoners." He'd thought of not taking McKay because of the danger, he still hadn't given John an answer about joining the team. He must have heard about the mission from Teyla or Ronon. "Word is, there are a few guerrilla factions that aren't too happy with us for refusing to share weapons in the original trade negotiations."

"What happened?"

John turned his head to the side, not really looking at McKay. "There was a skirmish after the negotiations fell apart. As we were leaving, we were attacked--and I--we lost a few men." John cleared his throat. "Let's just say there's not a lot of love lost between us."

"So it's possible these... factions might have their own welcome party planned?"

John studied McKay's reflection. "Exactly." He picked up his toothbrush, gesturing dismissively to McKay. "Do you mind?"

McKay smiled and waved his hand. "No, no, go right ahead."

John huffed a heavy sigh and turned around. "What was it you wanted, McKay?"

"Oh, right. I just thought since the mission would be, well, I'll be issued a gun, right, so I thought I'd get in some practice this evening."

John eyed him warily. "So? Just see Major Patterson in the armory, he'll set you up, tell him I said it's okay." He turned back to the sink and began brushing his teeth.

"Yes, well, I tried that. Seems Major Patterson isn't inclined to put a weapon in my hand without your personal stamp of approval. So that's what I came for, Colonel... your approval."

John's ears burned and the suggestive tone of McKay's voice sent a hot shiver down his back, filling his cock. He bent over, spat and rinsed his mouth before facing McKay in the mirror. "All right, you got it, now... do you mind?"

"What is it Sheppard, am I making you nervous?"

John drew his lips together in a tight, thin line and licked them quickly. "I'm naked, McKay."

McKay pushed away from the doorframe and took a step. "Yes, you are. You know, I could, uhm..." He fanned his hand up and down indicating his clothes. "Level the playing field here if you'd like?"

John said nothing, his pulse a steady drumbeat between his ears as his own body heat bathed him in sweat. They stood and stared at each other in the mirror, then a full smile lit up McKay's face, and it was crazy how that somehow intensified the mischief in his eyes, even crazier how it twisted John's stomach into knots.

"Okay, okay," McKay said, turning to leave. "Just give Patterson the word, huh?" John stood mutely, gripping his toothbrush in one hand and the sink rim in the other.

"Oh, one more thing, Sheppard," McKay said, and even in the mirror, that playful gleam shone in his eyes. "You are seriously hot for an old man."

John watched him walk away, hardly noticing the shallowness of his own breath. He groped for his earpiece and cleared his throat. "Patterson, this is Sheppard. Rod- Doctor McKay's a go for target practice."

John slid the towel from around his waist, groaning a little when the rough nap brushed against his stiff cock. Green-gold flecks sparked the muddied eyes that stared back at him, flashing desire and denial in equal parts. He thought of going after McKay and then he thought of the mission. Too much depended on John's ability to be all eyes and ears. He could turn the tension to his advantage, beat it into a weapon he could use.

Tossing the towel onto the counter, John stepped back into the shower.

~~~~

Nothing about the mission to M6X-827 had promised to be easy. John didn't like turning over the prisoners. It was a concession he hadn't swallowed easily. According to the truce, the Allorans weren't going to be held accountable for their actions. In fact, one of the prisoners was the suspected leader of the attack that had taken the lives of his men and they were letting him go.

There was nothing John could do about that, nothing to do but get in and get out, drop off the prisoners and head home. That was the plan. As with any plan, there was always an alternative, a contingency in case of trouble, but John hadn't expected things to turn sour so quickly.

The exchange had gone as planned and the Alloran Council had assured them of safe passage. But heading back to the gate, an interesting energy signal led the team and the Marines out of the way to an open fault in the planet's surface. While investigating the signal, they'd been surrounded and Sheppard had managed to get himself captured in the well-choreographed chaos that followed.

He was damn lucky he hadn't gotten himself dead. Apparently, though, capture was only a formality forestalling that inevitability. It seemed the factions didn't abide by the same code of laws as the Alloran leaders and somehow, John wasn't surprised by that.

John's only consolation, and it was a small one, was that he was alone, the others had gotten away, he hoped. He had every reason to believe there were rebels fanned out through the woods and brush all the way back to the jumpers. Teyla, Ronon, the Marines, they all knew the drill - get back, regroup and request backup. If he could just stall these guys, maybe he could buy enough time for a daring rescue. John Sheppard, ever the optimist.

Surprised didn't quite cover John's reaction when, surveying his situation through the bars of his crude, open-air accommodations, he saw McKay off in the brush at the edge of the clearing. Panic cut a quick swath through his belly as he scanned the area for guards, but there weren't any that he could see, only the one Alloran left to guard him. John turned to check the burly guy standing his post. His back was to the cage, thank God.

When he turned back around, McKay was hunched over, seemingly engrossed in his datapad, but there was no Teyla, no Ronon. He couldn't believe they'd let McKay go off on his own. Surely, somebody had followed protocol and help would be on the way soon.

Only not soon enough.

John quickly appraised the situation, casually shifting his gaze from the gathering crowd of Allorans to Rodney and back. McKay glanced up but didn't seem to notice the turn of events, going back to poking at that damn computer. Operating on pure instinct, his heightened senses pulled John's muscles taut. He watched and listened, clenching and unclenching sweaty, bound fists as he tried to think.

"Hey fellas," he said in a jovial tone, much too loud for normal conversation. "Don't I get a phone call... last request... a meal? Something?"

He cut his eyes to find that McKay was looking his way, finally. McKay ducked back into the brush and held up his hand, flashing all five fingers.

John had no idea what the hell McKay had in mind. He could only hope it wasn't a ticket to a ringside seat right in there with him. Deciding he'd have to trust McKay, John cleared his throat and blazed boldly on. "Seriously, guys, I'd like to speak to your supervisor. Back home we've got a little thing called due process. That's where--"

A calm voice rumbled from behind the guards. "I am in charge." The man who emerged was roughly John's height and John shifted to his left, putting them eyeball to eyeball.

"Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard, and you..."

The man remained silent.

John shrugged. "Like I was saying, where I come from, we have certain legal rights, the right to know exactly what we're accused of pops into mind right off the bat, so--"

"Ah," said the man in charge. His voice was about as smooth as a gravel bed and he had a face to match. "But this is not where you come from, is it, Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard?"

John surveyed the man and checked the position of the guards, a broad grin stretching the corners of his mouth. "Well, you've got me there... so I'm guessing no phone call, huh? How about a few last words then? I could write them down, you know, to be delivered to my people."

The Alloran rebel's eyes were cold, hard chips of flint, his face a blank.

"Or not," John said backing up a few steps.

"Bring him," the man ordered.

On command, two guards lumbered inside the cage as John took another step back then another, eyes wide as one of the men reached for him.

~~~~

John's stomach bottomed out like a runaway elevator, his feet like lead weights as he stumbled trying to keep his balance. He blinked and looked around at the bright, familiar surroundings of the gateroom. McKay stood opposite him, datapad clutched in his hands. John stared at him, trying to comprehend. Panic, with just a tad of amazement stared back at him.

"Jesus Christ, McKay, what the hell did you do?" John's words were charged with something he didn't quite recognize. Not fear, not gratitude either, and the gulf between the two was big enough to land a city in.

Rodney stepped up and cut through the bindings at John's wrists, hands shaking as he sawed through the rope until John was free. "You're welcome, Colonel." McKay's voice wavered a bit, then steeled with his usual snark. "It was an ingenious rescue. Really, no need to thank me."

Suddenly, Keller and Marie were at John's side. Keller was tugging on his arm, saying something about scanners and right now. He pulled away violently and took a step forward. "I asked you what you did?" His voice was surprisingly calm for someone who'd just... whatever the hell he'd just done.

McKay held up his datapad and attempted a smile. "Portable pattern storage module. I--uh, using a modification or, technically, a merging of the Wraith and Asgard beaming technologies, I was able to hone in on your subcutaneous transmitter and store your energy signal until we reached safety." He coughed to clear his throat and gave Sheppard a half-hearted grin obviously intended to change John's expression from _I-could-strangle-you-with-my-bare-hands_ to one of _Cool_.

"You what?" Impressed wasn't quite the emotion coursing through him at the moment. His skin seemed to vibrate, tingle in anticipation of the slightest movement.

"It's, uhm, a little project I've been working on... yes, I know what you're going to say, an unproven project, but I--"

Disbelief and shock and that glint of superiority in McKay's eyes fed John's quiet anger. "For fuck's sake, McKay. Did you for one minute think about what you were doing?"

McKay's face fell. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. The datapad hung limply at his side. Still, he lifted his chin in defiance, though his eyes betrayed him.

Keller's hand was insistent, turning John away from the gateroom, away from the look of disappointment on McKay's face.

~~~~

"Doctor Keller, says you are fine, Colonel, and we are very happy to hear that." Teyla glanced to Ronon then back to John.

John hated the infirmary. It was a place for life-threatening injuries and illnesses and he had neither. He was still there because Keller had insisted on bringing the new shrink around to see him, which was ridiculous. As far as he could see, there was nothing for him to 'deal' with. He'd been kidnapped for all of an hour and a half for God's sake. He'd had COs fill him with more fear for his life than that. And the thing with McKay... well that was another matter altogether, and it was between him and McKay.

John blinked. Teyla and Ronon were looking at him as if he was a man threatening to jump from a tall building. Didn't they understand? He'd just had his entire molecular composition scrambled. Dammit, he deserved to be a little pissed off. He needed a good hard run around the East Pier, not a shrink.

"You have become fond of him, have you not?"

John blinked again, not realizing Teyla had been talking. "Who?"

She sighed. "Doctor McKay."

John shifted his seat. He thought they'd finished with that subject. Ronon had already explained how McKay had refused to go back to the jumper and how he and Teyla had no choice but to stay with him, although John was still unclear on the whole how they thought McKay's idea had been worth the risk thing.

John shrugged. "He's okay," he said, thinking that might be the end of it.

"I believe he is quite pleasant when he is not trying to push people away."

No such luck. John stared at her.

"Do you not see it?" she asked. "I do not think Rodney wishes to spend most of his time alone."

"He doesn't," John sniffed, "ever see him in the mess, always surrounded." He rolled his eyes. "You'd think Einstein himself was sitting there. And we have movie--"

She laid a hand on his knee. "John, Rodney feels no connection to those people. I agree they are good for his ego, but they do not challenge him, not the way you do." She smiled and removed her hand. "And, I believe you are the only one to have beaten him at chess."

"Yeah," John snorted, "temper tantrums I don't need."

"Still, even when you insisted on watching the time travel movie, he stayed."

"And griped through the whole thing."

"Perhaps, but did you not notice how many times he laughed. Arguing with you seems to make him strangely happy."

John narrowed his eyes. "What's your point?"

She looked at Ronon again and he nodded. "We believe you should ask Rodney to become a permanent member of the team. I believe it would make him happy and we would welcome it."

He cut his eyes to Ronon and raised an eyebrow.

"I'm good," Ronon said.

John stiffened. "Well, just so you know, I have asked him. He hasn't given me an answer one way or the other." He looked around impatiently. "I don't--has anyone seen McKay?"

"He has not been here?"

John rubbed his thighs. "No, you know, not that I--"

"I have not seen him since the gateroom." She looked to Ronon. "Have you?"

"Saw him going toward the labs," he replied.

John assured both of them that he would indeed make an effort to talk to McKay. He sat there after they'd gone, not really waiting for McKay, because he knew he wouldn't show, and why should he?

He hopped down from the exam table. Screw it. If Keller needed anything else, she knew where to find him.

In the transporter, he hesitated a few seconds, finger poised over the glowing circle indicating the science wing. He blew out a long breath and pressed the one for the residence wing instead.

~~~~

John flipped the page and realized he'd have to go back and re-read the previous page, which he'd read twice already, just to understand what he'd just read. He slammed the book shut and tossed it onto the nightstand.

He was still a little bugged about what had happened, but found some comfort in Keller's assurances that he was all right. Absolutely no change from his last scan, she'd insisted. Likewise, his consternation at McKay's saving his life by risking it had lost most of its steam, leaving John with his own words of thanklessness and the look on McKay's face. Instead of acknowledging that McKay had risked his own safety, or even taking his censure private, John had lambasted him in front of Carter, the rest of the team and the entire gateroom. John scrubbed his hand over his face. McKay hadn't necessarily deserved that.

When his door chimes sounded, his first thought was that Keller might have sent someone to bring him back to the infirmary.

It was McKay.

"Sheppard? Ah, good, I see they let you go. No permanent damage, then. All your parts in the right place."

Sarcasm seemed to be McKay's default setting; it laced his words even when he was obviously trying to be nice. But John was tired and really didn't feel up to an argument. "Keller says I'm fine, everything's there that supposed to be and nothing that isn't."

McKay nodded. "Good," he said again. And snarky or not, the man did look genuinely distressed. McKay looked past him, eyes darting back and forth. "Can I, uh, can I come in?"

John took a deep breath. Remembering the last time McKay was in his quarters, he answered simply, "No."

"Oh," McKay replied, looking down at his hands, then back to John, seemingly trying to think of something else to say.

"Listen, McKay, it's been a helluva day, I'm just gonna sack out." He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "But... I do want to--" He shoved his hand in his pocket. "I--thanks for..."

"Yes, well, no problem."

"Teyla and Ronon told me what you did. Refused to follow their orders, refused to go back to the--"

"I didn't think we had that kind of time," Rodney cut him off. "I thought it was important to try and save your ass sooner rather than later--obviously a misguided notion on my part."

John knew he should leave well enough alone. "Yeah," he said, cocking his head. "Sort of goes against your anti-team, save yourself at all costs credo, doesn't it?"

Rodney snorted and cut his eyes at John. "You make me sound like some super-egotistical ogre."

"If the shoe fits." John grinned. "And for future reference, McKay, I'm kind of attached to my sorry _old_ ass, thank you."

McKay's eyes brightened, his mouth forming sort of a half-hearted grin in return.

"But not following orders... you won't get away with that shit as a member of the team, I'm giving you fair warning."

The floor seemed to draw McKay's attention like a magnet then. "I, uh--well, you're okay, so I'll just--" He turned.

"McKay?"

"I haven't really made up my mind on that." Then he looked squarely into John's eyes. "But I have a pretty clear idea which way I'm leaning.. unlike some people. Have a good evening, Colonel."

If it was possible to be any more bewildered by young Doctor McKay, John was there. His eyes followed McKay down the hallway until the doors whispered shut in front of him.

~~~~

Alone in his office, John contemplated the small mountain of reports that required his signature, requisition vouchers and half-completed reports of his own that covered his desk. There'd been no scheduled missions for the past two days. At first, John had been relieved. The last thing he needed was going off-world with things unsettled between the team. He had expected to hear from McKay one way or the other about his decision, but there'd been no word at all. In fact, the only times he'd seen McKay had been in the mess and always with someone else. Running a hand through his hair, he looked disconsolately at the stack of unsigned mission reports before pulling them to him.

Fifteen minutes later, he still hadn't signed a single one. He glanced at his watch, got up and walked over to the coffee pot in the corner. He held the pot up to the light and, deciding that he'd drained crankcases of liquid that had looked better, set it back on the element and switched it off. Sighing deeply, he paced in front of his desk.

He tapped his earpiece, but found that Ronon had volunteered to go on another humanitarian mission with Dr. Keller. He allowed himself a little smile at that. He could check with Teyla and see if she wanted to hit the gym, but the more he thought about that, the better the paperwork sounded. In the end, he just sat down and began signing off on the delinquent reports.

After a few minutes, his thoughts drifted to that night in his quarters, thinking about what he might have done if McKay had really made any kind of move. It was obvious there was only one thing that could settle his restlessness, only one thing that would feed the desolate stretch of his self-imposed self-denial. Only one thing. And John knew what it was.

He just wasn't sure how to ask for it, or even if he should.

~~~~

When John entered the mess for dinner, McKay was there, sitting with a few of the younger scientists. John looked on, bemused, at the expressions of fascination on the others' faces. He shook his head; the man certainly enjoyed the sound of his own voice.

Ronon's humanitarian mission had turned into an overnight and Teyla had gone to the mainland to visit, so he took his tray and sat alone at an out of the way table facing McKay and his little entourage. Glancing over, he saw McKay animatedly engaged in conversation with an attractive young woman and he grinned at the desperation in her face. She was obviously trying to pry in a word or two, waiting for Rodney to take a breath so she could pounce. John snorted. He was certain McKay breathed through his eyelids or something because he knew for a fact getting a word in was impossible when McKay was on a roll.

He watched the exchange for another moment or two before concentrating on his dinner. When he noticed movement at the table, John looked up. Some of the group were leaving, but McKay was still talking with the young woman, or she was talking and McKay was smirking. Then McKay turned his way. The look in his eyes and his shy smile made John shudder and fleshed out the hard-on he'd tried to suppress all day, and fuck him, there was no way he could get up, no way he could escape. He lowered his eyes and wished he'd brought some of that damn paperwork with him.

When he finally looked up, Rodney was escorting the young scientist out of the mess.

~~~~

By 2100 hours, John had already stowed his laundry and taken a shower. He debated whether to give War and Peace another shot or just go to the gym. Maybe he could work off some of his restless energy. He ended up flipping through a stack of comics, looking for one he hadn't read two or three times. But not even The Fantastic Four was enough to hold his interest.

He simply couldn't get McKay off his mind. The way McKay seemed to want him, the way he was so open about it, the look on McKay's face as he'd stood defiantly in the gateroom. How was it he'd managed to let that hyperactive bundle of supreme smugness and aching vulnerability get to him this way?

Was there something of his own experience mirrored in that eager face? Did he see something from long ago reflected in McKay's eyes? For just a moment, John let himself remember how it felt to be young and cocky, full of himself and wanting something out of his reach.

He needed to understand this thing with McKay, needed to understand why he seemed so dead set on resisting it. It was the classic moth to flame and it didn't matter one whit to the moth if the flame was real or not. The moth didn't care, he just wanted to get in there, beat its wings, be in the game... it was the love of the heat that drew him.

What was it McKay had said to him... hadn't figured him for the backing down type? And, Goddammit, he wasn't. He'd never backed down from anything in his life, but he always knew which battles were worth fighting and which ones weren't.

Was McKay worth it? Was it worth John beating his wings, even if they burned, to get near that heat? To find out if that flame was real?

"Fuck!" He tossed the comic across the room and headed for the door.

~~~~

Certain hallways in Atlantis all looked the same, but John finally stopped when he realized he'd been wandering this particular one in a circle. He blinked. Surprised, but not, to find himself outside McKay's quarters.

He swallowed hard and stepped up to the door, pulse pounding as he swiped his hand over the crystals. If McKay didn't answer, he'd just...

But he did. Standing there, he was dressed in nothing but thin cotton pajama pants... nothing. Backlit by the warm, low Lantean light, his bare skin seemed to glow, except in the places shadowed by the fine triangle of hair that led to…

"Sheppard?"

John had clearly intended to say something, only he had no idea what it might have been.

"This is a surprise." McKay's smug grin certainly wasn't helping matters and at that moment, John didn't know whether to slap or kiss it off his face. "You finally figured out what you want?"

He looked down at McKay's bare feet. "We need to, uh... I came by to see if you've made a--"

"Ah, the team, I should have guessed," Rodney replied, stepping aside for John to enter. "You disappoint me yet again, Colonel."

John followed him inside but as soon as Rodney turned his back, all John could see was that self-righteous superiority that had taunted him for months personified in the broad expanse of McKay's shoulders and in the tone of his voice.

When McKay turned around suddenly, John almost walked into him. McKay reached out to steady him. "I mean I'm flattered that you'd come by my quarters for your answer when you could just ask me on the comm any time, but..."

Goddamnit, why he was there had nothing at all to do with the team. John opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again and that tight, pent up feeling that had gripped him all day finally snapped, like a dry elastic band stretched once too often.

The next thing John knew, he had Rodney's face and chest pressed flat to the wall.

Rodney chuckled, fueling the fire. "Oh, now you're gonna go commando on me? This how you show your appreciation to people who save your life? Same rules as before," he grunted as John's forearm bore down across his shoulders. "You get nothing until you tell me what you want."

"So we're back to that?" John pressed harder, running his hand over Rodney anywhere and everywhere he could reach. And Rodney's skin loved it, coming alive everywhere John touched.

John felt for Rodney's nipple, flicking his fingernail over the hard pebbled surface as Rodney hissed air between his teeth. "This what you been waiting for, McKay?"

"Not about me, Sheppard."

"Isn't it?" John shot back. "Isn't it always all about you?"

"Say it..." Rodney prodded.

Jesus, how was he supposed to answer? What did he want? How was he supposed to say _anything... everything... whatever you want..._ and still be in control. John ground himself into the thin cotton and let the words slip. "Wanna fuck you, McKay..."

The noise from the back of Rodney's throat was somewhere between a moan and a sigh as he pushed back against the outline of John's erection.

John released his hold and grabbed Rodney's hips, pulling him back more. Rodney leaned into the wall as John used his knee like a crowbar to spread his legs wider. Not stopping to think, John slipped his hand inside the pajamas, fingering Rodney's cock lightly, passing his hand over and around it, making Rodney moan even louder.

Like a blind man, he tried to "see" Rodney's dick - hot and heavy, the silky smooth sheath taut - and, God, McKay was so fucking hard. John had to swallow down his own moan as the full, thick shaft passed over his palm when Rodney pushed forward.

He pressed his forehead between Rodney's shoulder blades and jerked the thin cotton over Rodney's hips.

"Touch me again." Rodney's voice was low and needy and vibrated against John's temple.

And John wanted to, but instead, he began to rub slow circles over Rodney's ass, the skin warm and smooth under his hand. With each pass, he drew his fingers up between the cheeks until finally, spreading them apart, he pressed in deliberately across Rodney's hole.

"Jesus, Sheppard," Rodney breathed, "just get on with it."

"You got anything?" John asked, fingers itching to get inside him. "Need lube."

"No you don't." He reached back and pulled John's hand to his mouth, bathing John's fingers in warmth, tongue painting them thoroughly before letting go. "Just do it!"

John bent to the chiseled plane of Rodney's shoulder, breathing in that spicy scent as he slipped the first finger in... so hot and so tight and after that, only one thought consumed him... being inside Rodney, fucking him.

He went in with another, his teeth worrying the delicate arc at Rodney's nape. Working his fingers in and out, he saw Rodney's hand scrabbling for a hold on the wall, heard a sharp, guttural groan, like the sound a rope might make just before it snapped, and it took a few moments for it all to sink in. What was he doing?

"Sheppard?" Rodney grunted against him, trying to push back onto John's hand.

John backed up and removed his fingers as gently but as quickly as he could.

"Sheppard? What the--it's okay, why'd you--"

He spun Rodney around, surveying him, getting a good look, from the flush of his face to the swollen cock jutting between them and back to Rodney's mouth. "Goddamnit, McKay." He hadn't meant... he didn't want this to be like those other times for Rodney.

The room was as hot as an Afghani desert. His heart slammed against his chest, but he couldn't pull his eyes away from that mouth. That mouth needed to be kissed, he thought, backing Rodney against the wall again, eyes darting over his face but always coming to rest on those lips. Would Rodney even want to kiss him? He leaned in closer, but still he hesitated... right up until Rodney took the decision out of his hands.

The kiss was anything but hesitant or perfect. Nosed bumped and teeth clashed, but it was slick and hot, Rodney's tongue licking at the corner of John's mouth, throwing off John's rhythm. It was like ending a drought, like sustenance, something they both needed to exist and just as if they had a mind of their own, John's hips inched forward as Rodney opened up for him, giving over, almost dissolving in his arms, making John wonder just how long it had been since the man hanging on to him had been kissed.

The harsh sound of air forced in and out of nostrils filled the room as the fervor of the kiss slowed with their need to breathe. Rodney's lips were soft and barely brushing John's as hands encircled John's waist, dipping inside his pants. "God, I can't wait to feel you," Rodney panted.

Then they were moving, spinning, lips locked together, John's hands full of Rodney, pulling him, pushing him toward the bed, finally letting him fall away onto it.

Unbuttoning his shirt, John asked, "do you have--because I can go--"

Rodney grinned as John tore the shirt off, tossed it aside and started on his pants. Kicking the pajama pants from his ankles, Rodney rolled over to the nightstand and that made John's mouth go dry, staring at the smooth, rounded cheeks pulled taut by reaching, the sides hollowed just below his hips and he had a sudden urge to explore one of those hollows with his tongue.

John shuddered and slid his hand along the length of his cock. He knelt on the bed between the splayed legs to knead that perfect ass, spreading Rodney wider and wider each time. The skin was like silk; it moved and molded so easily beneath John's hands. John licked a thumb and circled it around the smooth, tight opening, pushing in slightly, in and out until Rodney began to breathe harder.

Then John leaned forward and squeezed those cheeks around his achingly hard cock and all he could do was flutter his eyelids and try to keep his knees from buckling at how damn good it felt, soothing, like putting out a fire. He stretched out over Rodney, bending to his ear, hips still grinding. "Christ, McKay," he breathed.

Rodney looked back at him. John waited for him to say something, but he really didn't need words to know what Rodney wanted. He stood and Rodney sat on the foot of the bed, eyes drifting appraisingly over John's body and that made John feel a bit uneasy, well aware of that little curve to his belly, the silvery gray lurking at his temples and woven like single threads amid the black at his chest.

But before he could make any excuses or say another word, Rodney leaned forward to soothe the ache even more, licking, stroking, and finally covering John's cock in warm, wet heat. The deep moan hit the back of John's throat and escaped before he thought to stop it and, fuck, he'd be lucky not to let go right then and there.

Rodney seemed to sense that. He scraped the condom packet up John's thigh. "Want me to?" he asked, looking up at John.

When John nodded, Rodney smiled and took him deep, making John forget his restraint and push forward into that hot mouth and, God, it wasn't possible for John to be any harder. From somewhere far off it seemed, he heard the ripping of the condom wrapper and dropped his head to watch.

The sharp scent of latex hit the air when Rodney removed the condom and fitted it over the head. John breathed deeply and watched Rodney's long, graceful fingers carefully, seductively roll the thin, black transparent sheath out to nothing. God, so fucking hot.

"Lie back," John said. His words were thick and raspy and didn't seem to be his own as he slowly and deliberately spread lube over his dick, never taking his eyes off Rodney. Rodney's cheeks and forearms were rosy from his time off-world and his cock was thick and full, bobbing heavy against his stomach as he backed into position and spread his legs for John.

If there was any last minute, burrowing doubts, John managed to tamp them back, deciding instead, for once, to deal with the fallout later. He climbed onto the bed and reached for Rodney, spreading a bit of the slick fluid over the puckered blush of his asshole, teasing him before pushing a finger inside.

Rodney tugged him down close and begged against his lips, "Do it, Sheppard."

"Do what, McKay?"

"Fuck me," he groaned as John slipped his finger out. Rodney started to turn over but John caught him.

"Oh no, I want you to see who's fucking you," John said, and the way Rodney's eyes seemed to widen for a moment, the way his jaw slackened and his mouth went kind of sideways made John's breath catch. In that moment, he realized Rodney might never have been with anyone who cared about that.

Moving closer, he pushed one of Rodney's legs back and pressed inside, carefully at first, watching Rodney's face change - eyes closed, brows crinkled, the tip of his tongue caught between lips drawn tight and thin.

Rodney nodded to let John know he was okay and finally feeling him give, John pushed further into that tight heat. He took a few deep breaths. Rodney felt incredible, but if he went too fast, this was going to be over in a heartbeat. When Rondey opened his eyes, flashing that impatient look, John knew he had to move and he started an easy rhythm, slow and measured and, oh God, it had been so long.

When Rodney's thigh jerked and began to tremble, John let go and leaned forward, his hands braced against Rodney's shoulders for balance, his hips continuing their lazy pace. The urge to lean in and kiss Rodney pulled hard, but at the same time, it made John feel exposed and needy and surely Rodney could sense that in a kiss, because right now, this was about as open and as bare as John Sheppard allowed himself to be. He glanced down, checking, as if Rodney might be able to see that.

Rodney ran his hand up to John's shoulder, then over to curl behind his neck. His soft moans and whispered encouragement urged John on. "I appreciate what you're doing," Rodney said, pulling John close, "but right now, I really need you to fuck me."

"Gee, McKay, I thought I had that covered." John grinned then hissed and grabbed a handful of sheet as Rodney thrust his hips up, forcing John all the way inside.

"I want it all, Sheppard, everything you've got."

John pulled out and let Rodney turn over, watch him stuff the pillow beneath his chest. Palming the soft cheeks, shiny and damp with sweat, John spread them again and eased inside. He tried to go slow, but Rodney wasn't having any of that. "C'mon old man, I won't break," he said, reaching back for John.

John grinned and grasped Rodney's hips. Soon, there was nothing but Rodney's moans, his own harsh breathing, the smell of sweat and sex and the delicious sound of slick skin slapping together. Christ, if he'd ever fucked anyone this hard, he didn't remember it and Rodney took it all, his knuckles white around the Ancient column at the head of the bed, fucking back, meeting John's thrusts.

John knew he couldn't keep this pace and jack Rodney too. "Jesus, McKay. Can... can you--"

"Yes, yes. God, just don't--fuck, just don't stop."

John didn't want to stop, had no intentions of stopping, but he didn't want this to end yet either and if he kept this up he was going to lose it. He slowed to a nice, easy in and out and growled at Rodney when he clenched in protest.

"I want to see you," John panted, waiting for the blood to stop crashing in his ears. He bent Rodney back to him. "Ride me," John husked before gently pulling out of him.

John flopped on his back and held his cock, toes curling as Rodney slid down onto him, teasing him with that tight, velvety heat. It was one heady rush watching Rodney's muscles steel and flex as he pistoned himself up and down, using John's belly for balance, fingers digging into John's flesh. John was drunk with it, arching his hips to meet Rodney, their rhythm building until he felt that inevitable tingle, until his muscles started to tighten on their own and, God, he was so tempted to give in and let it overtake him, but he wanted Rodney to come first.

Looking into his eyes, John reached for Rodney's cock, wrapping his hand around the shaft. Rodney smiled and shifted, sliding a hand over John's to guide him, leaning forward as John jacked him, crying out when John's next thrust hit home, and John pushed up into him, pumping away through Rodney's moans, fucking him harder. His other hand closed around the fine hair at the base of Rodney's neck, pulling him close, scraping the stubbled chin across his jaw until...

"Fuck, McKay..." John thrust two, three more times and fuck, it had been too fucking long... hips arching, each spasm coaxing his shoulders from the bed as if pulled by invisible wires.

With a harsh bark of breath Rodney followed right behind, spilling over John's hand without a word, thick, sloppy streams, pulse after pulse, and the hot pull of his ass jerked another spasm or two from John, until they were both totally and completely spent.

They lay there, hearts pounding together in the potent, drug-like veil of post-orgasmic anesthesia until Rodney finally raised himself, lifted off John and crowded him for the small strip of bed available, skin against sweat-slicked skin.

John's head was heavy, as if all he wanted to do was sleep now as he sat up to remove the condom. Coming to the conclusion that it would take much too much energy to get up and walk to the bathroom, he dropped it on the floor and fought Rodney for his space back, finally agreeing to accept Rodney's head on his shoulder.

~~~~

John cracked an eye open and looked sideways. Rodney was staring at him, eyes bright and playful, grinning like a maniac.

John smiled and wondered, did Rodney seriously expected a round two... tonight?

Dragging his fingers in lazy patterns across John's chest, which actually felt kind of nice, Rodney said just one word, "Yes."

John scrunched his face, trying to figure out if he'd missed something. "Yes, what?"

"Yes, I'd like to be a member of the team. That is, if the offer's still good."

Staring at Rodney, all those thoughts about why what they'd just done was a bad idea slammed John back to reality and he added fraternization to the list. John took a deep breath. Team or no team, he couldn't deny it would be next to impossible not to repeat what they'd done. In fact, he couldn't wait to do it again. But...

He brushed a hand over the pale shoulder. "Rodney--"

"Look, Sheppard, I'm no idiot. I know all about your regulations and your codes and whatnot, and just like everything else, I know there are ways around them. I can play the role," he said softly, "No one will know. Just don't say we can't do this again."

John searched Rodney's face. The words were right there on the tip of his tongue, all the words he needed to end this before it could start. Words that struggled with a part of himself he rarely indulged, the part that always took a back seat, the part that needed to get close to the flame... needed to burn his wings black if necessary.

The words were right there.

But there in the vivid blue of Rodney's eyes, John saw the flame and instead of words, he pulled Rodney to him.

One day at a time, he mused as Rodney's tongue searched his mouth. He'd save the discussions for later. Rodney's hands were warm and alive and John was interested in finding out if they could coax a surprise out of an _old man's_ body.

~~~~

It was almost evening as the team left the village on their way back to the gate. John had already checked in with Atlantis and explained that the Lanaii wished to honor them with a meal, which had been decent and filling. The Lanaii were always good hosts. Wide alizarin ribbons and thin golden streamers stretched across the sky to the horizon as the team made their way through the tall grass, stirring insects that celebrated their freedom as buzzing confetti.

They weren't in strict formation and Teyla quickly caught up to John. "Rodney handled himself quite well," she said, walking alongside.

John chewed on a sprig of wild grass, moving it around with his tongue. "Yep, looks like all that hard work in the gym with you and Ronon is paying off." He was still kind of jazzed over the scene earlier in the town square, Ronon and McKay fighting off a band of hooligans from a neighboring village. He and Teyla had helped, of course, but that was mostly just the mop up after.

"He has been very good for the team as well, has he not?" she asked, and John figured that was a polite, Athosian version of _I told you so_.

"Yep," he repeated, turning back to see Ronon and Rodney, all smiles, Rodney spinning Ronon's blaster as they did the highlight reel of the fight, both getting in some good-natured ribbing.

"And you, Colonel, you seem to have a definite spring in your step these past few months."

John looked sideways at Teyla and pretended not to notice the dangerous arch of her brow. Actually, the past two months had been awesome. He felt strangely at peace... listening to McKay rant... heading home after another successful mission... seeing Teyla smile, open and satisfied. A smile that said, _I am pleased_.

He smiled back. Yep, awesome.


End file.
